


Blood on Her Hands

by GreyGhost



Series: The Dragon's Heart [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyGhost/pseuds/GreyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Vastra is wounded while saving a little Ape, but meets a young girl who will change Vastra's dispirited life.  </p>
<p>Part One of "The Dragon's Heart" Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday night.  March 5, 1881

**Early March 1881 - (12)**

"Filthy, stinking Apes!" 

My back aches from my wounds, my rage is fueled by gin, and my mood is dark and bitter. The fact that my head hurts from drinking doesn't help things.

My empty mug smashes against the wall, just narrowly missing the nimbly dodging young monkey who has just walked into my room. 

"What in blazes was that for, Miss? Do that again, and kindness or no, I'll box your ears!"

The little monkey who is the other (temporary) occupant of this filth-hole is watching me closely, wary but not cowering. Never cowering. Not even when it was in danger of being beaten to death by Apes from a clan it calls "The Black Scorpion Tong." 

**The evening before yesterday (Saturday night)**

I was near the Thames River, close to Three Crowns Lane, scouting the back alleys to learn their layout. No fixed destination in mind, just a reconnaissance patrol to see if there was anything of interest in the area. An entrance to old tunnels perhaps.

I heard a scream of anger and pain, quickly muffled, from a nearby lane way, and when I rounded the corner I found a sight that enraged me. Three grown Apes had pinned a little monkey to the ground, beating it and tearing at its clothing. Another Ape lay groaning in the alley, felled by a lucky kick or punch. 

I'd seen similar sights in the worst stews of London before that night, but rarely one where the victim fought back so bravely, if futilely. The little one, biting and flailing, was bruised and bloody; close to being overwhelmed and probably killed... 

I knew I could make a quick and easy difference here. 

I was arrogant and overconfident. I paid for it.

I sliced the head off an Ape with my sword, and knocked another away with a reversed blow from the butt. The monkey bit the hand of the third Ape covering its mouth and yelled, "Behind you!"

The price I paid was a long shallow slice on my back and a cut on the back of my left leg, inflicted by the Ape in the alley. It must have recovered from its previous injury; it barely missed my spine as I dodged, thanks to the monkey's warning. I took the Ape down with a back-hand blow and turned back to the monkey, but the last Ape was already running away, screaming for its fellows.

The monkey leaned half collapsed against the wall, staring at me. "Thank you," it said. 

It shoved off the wall, and staggered over to where I was kneeling in the alley, trying to examine my leg. I could see dark stains beneath the monkey's nose and mouth from its own blood. It fell to its knees, bracing an arm around my shoulder, across my back and I hissed.

"You're hurt!" It brought its hand around to look at it in the dim twilight, and I could see more dark stains. My blood. The monkey ducked behind me, and I could feel a more gentle touch on my back.

"My eyes aren't working right," it muttered, "Your skin looks funny..." Then briskly, "...must be your shirt cloth."

It must have seen my scales.... 

The thought went through my mind that I should kill it now, and save myself, but the monkey scrambled over to the bodies, and there was a rip and tearing sound. It returned with some strips of cloth, and my attacker's knife. It quickly bound up my leg, and fitted a thick pad of cloth across my back, using the knife to tear up more cloth. Then it tucked the knife away, and reached for my sword. I was still clutching it, torn over whether to kill the monkey and protect myself, and I admit I hissed. The monkey drew back, but not far.

"Right, keep it then. You might need it. Those were men from the Black Scorpion Tong, and they'll be back after me. But you need to get patched up. Do you know someplace safe, sir?"

I thought it was female from the sound and dress, but it was so very hard to tell with Apes, even after living among them for years. Would it (she?) understand simple directions? 

"Not here. We need to head for Cheapside where it becomes Poultry." 

It stopped and blinked at me, surprised. After a moment, it murmured, "Well if that don't beat all... Sorry ma'am. Yes, I know it well. I was born near there." It sounds almost delighted. Perhaps it believes a female to be less of a threat than a male. A foolish assumption, of course. 

It draped my arm over its shoulder, and helped me to my feet, trying to keep my weight off my injured leg. I realized that it was barely as tall as my shoulder, and wondered if it was simply small or very young as well. We limped off, neither of us moving quickly, and both of us on guard against marauding Apes.

***

My room was over a garish Gin Palace, the entrance located in a back alley off Cheapside, up four flights of stairs. The Gin Palace at that time of night was a noisy, crowded place which stank of Ape sweat and vomit. The little monkey managed to open the door to my room, high above the noise, and helped me inside. The room was pitch black; I'm not so much a fool as to keep an unattended lamp burning while I'm out, and my night vision compensates for the lack of light. The monkey helped me to a chair, located the cheap candle on the table and lit it with a match from its pocket.

An unexpected luxury: by the dim light I could see that its clothes are half rags, even where they weren't torn from the fight. "Matches?" I asked," You carry matches?"

"I sell them. I'm a Match Girl, ma'am. Least I was the Black Scorpions decided I would earn more money for them in the oldest way." Its voice seems to shake a bit. "Do you have any water?"

"In the pitcher there." As it poured some water into a small bowl that it placed beside me I said, "I don't understand what you mean." 

It dipped a bit of cloth from its' pocket into the bowl, and started to move behind me. "Thank God for that, it's nice to know there's still one innocent in this city." At my look of confusion, it sighed and explained: "They wanted me to whore for them, ma'am. Those men were going to, well, break me in." 

I stared, my mind trying to catch up. All I can come up with is, "How old are you?"

"Almost thirteen."

'Almost thirteen' means it's just a hatchling! "That is truly monstrous."

"Yes, ma'am, it is." It sighed, "I'm little better than a street rat, ma'am, but I do have some pride. So I fought. I knew I couldn't stop them, but I'd be damned if I'd just give in. Thank you again for the rescue, by the way." And now I can see that its body is starting to tremble a tiny bit. "You need to take your cloak off, ma'am. This needs to be cleaned."

"I can not. Do your best with it on."

It moved behind me with the candle, and touched my back again, and with the help of the water, eased away the temporary cloth pad stuck to my skin with dried blood. I remembered that I still may need to kill it to protect my secret, but that's faded to a whining whisper in my mind rather than a shouted call to battle.

It cleared the cloth from my wound, and patted it clean. I felt the moment when it paused, thinking about what it was seeing. The monkey's paw moved to the hood of my cloak, giving it a gentle stroke, as if trying to reassure me, and then a very light tug. My hand shot up, holding the hood in place a moment, and then with a sigh I gave in, and let my hood drop. If this monkey must die, let it (no, _Her,_ my mind protests, she's female, as am I; give her some dignity,) let _her_ at least look on the face of her killer. 

I turned slowly towards her, letting her get a good look as my face swung into the light of the candle. She was less than an arm's length away, and her expression was startled for a moment, then... questioning? No screaming, no shouting, no mad scramble to get away. 

I always horrified the crowds who came to stare at me in 'Jago's Monstre Gathering.' This one reacted differently. There was a long pause, and then the words she spoke surprised me:

"Sorry to be rude, but... yer not like me. What... no... Who...Who are you?"

Keep it simple, I thought, it's too much for an Ape to take in: "I'm a lizard woman from the dawn of time. My name is Vastra." I removed my cloak. There was no point to keeping it on, and it would only interfere with her work.

I only started to really notice it then, though I realized the trembling has been building in the monkey's body for several minutes. She was shaking more, but still her voice seemed open and curious, not fearful, though her voice shook a bit. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Je..." she trailed off, shakily. A shudder went through her body, distracting her, then she looked up.

"Sorry, your back, I almost forgot. Let's get this done, fast!" 

She was trembling violently now; what the humans call shivering, but through the air was cold and damp since it was early March, it was not a truly bitter cold, and there was no breeze in the room. Why was she shaking so much? 

Perhaps a distraction was called for. "How do you know how to dress wounds?" I asked.

"Ma taught me before she died. Me and my brother and sister were always getting into mischief. Usually small cuts and scrapes, easy to fix, but Johnny cut his head open once, and it bled something fierce. Ma said head cuts always do, and showed me how to patch him up properly." 

She quickly put clean strips of cloth in place, and secured them with a few of the bloody rags wrapped around my torso. Not an ideal solution, but better than it was before, when the bandage was loosely tied, and held in place mostly by her hand.

She reached for the bowl of water, and I could see that her hands were dark with the blood from my wounds.

I saw her suddenly twist her head away from me. She sneezed, bringing her hand up to cover her face, and it came away from her nose covered in blood. She'd reopened the damage from the beating.

"Gawd, that's disgusting. Sorry, ma'am." She finished her original movement and washed her hands in the bowl. I stared at the bloody water when she was done, transfixed by the sight.

There was so much blood on her small hands, and I couldn't tell which of the blood was hers, and which was mine. To one who loves the scent and taste of human blood, the smell of our combined blood was disconcerting. Neither tasty, nor unpleasant, but....very confusing.

"Sorry, ma'am, I'm s... so cold all of a sudden..."

And then I remembered the Doctor telling me that a human body can go into a condition... something dangerous, something deadly... 

Something he called Shock.

I snatched the thin blanket from the bed, and wrapped her in it. Then, ignoring my freshly bandaged wound, I picked her up and placed her on my narrow bed. I snatched up my cloak, slipped in beside her and spread it over both of us. I wanted to wrap myself around her, within the blanket, but that wouldn't help. _Reptilia Sapiens_ generate little internal heat, and I'd only steal her warmth and cool her body, making the problem worse. She could not afford that now. But I held her, and rubbed her back and arms, trying to stimulate her own blood flow.

And I worried.

She didn't scream at my face, though adults Apes often have.

She helped me home, though she could have run in terror near the river.

She said 'thank-you.' Twice. More times that I've heard the words since I last saw The Doctor.

She's a young five-for-a-penny street Ape, and I suspect that she has the heart of a dragon.

And I realized... I didn't want her to die. 

And with that thought, we both finally succumbed to exhaustion, and sleep.


	2. Sunday. March 6, 1881

**Yesterday (Sunday)**

I awoke to the incessant noise of the local birds. Dim grey light trickled through the room's grimy window. I could hear rain outside; the birds were hiding from it on the windowsills. Beside me, under my cloak which covered us both, and wrapped in a blanket, a small body twitched while it dreamed. My bed had never felt so warm before.

Where was this warmth when I needed it in January, in nightly danger of succumbing to torpor? And I realized: probably freezing on a street somewhere selling matches. I'd seen the hatchlings out there, working long past when they should be home and asleep; perhaps I walked right by this one and refused to listen to a plea for a sale that would give her food for another day.

My back was sore and my leg throbbed, but for all that, I was content. Yes, the monkey was inconvenient, and smelt a bit... though to my surprise, not as much as many Apes did. However, on the whole, I thought I'd done well last night, as the Doctor demanded. I smiled a little, remembering his words.

"Vastra, to redeem yourself for slaughtering those tunnel workers and commuters on the London Underground, I charge you to protect humans, especially those of Great Britain, from all enemies, alien and domestic."

"You can't do that! The Apes are violent, destructive monsters!"

" _Humans_ aren't all alike. Some are weak, some are strong. Some abuse their fellows and some offer kindness to strangers. Many are cowards and many are very, very brave. And you'll be surprised to see that some are all of these things."

"They slaughtered my sisters while they slept! I hate the Apes for what they've done. What they can still do! To my people and to themselves. They are cruel, and primitive and ignorant..."

"Yes, they are. And they are kind and noble and many have good hearts and all make mistakes! Your sisters' death was a truly terrible accident. The humans had no idea that they were there!" He'd looked at me very seriously, an attitude made difficult by his ridiculous floppy hat and long scarf. 

"Vastra, this will change your life for the better. I'm sure of it. Protect them, whether an entire city of humans that seems strong and powerful, or even just one small, weak human, if that's easier. Learn to walk before you run, as the saying goes."

"Learn to hunt monkeys before hunting Apes, is our saying, Doctor," I'd replied with a fierce, toothy sneer.

"No hunting children, Vastra. I mean it! This is important. Promise me. Please." And I promised. If only to get him to shut up!

Well, Doctor, I found a little monkey, which is brave and kind, and small and weak, and I protected it for the night.

So, what do I do next?

I took a moment and studied the little Ape. The fur on its head was dark, gathered up with some string at the back of its neck, like a horse tail. It was long enough to reach between its shoulder blades. I've seen other hatchlings with fur like this, the older females usually wear their's wrapped at the back of their heads. Perhaps it's an indicator of age or rank. Its skin is pale, but it was dark bruises around its eyes, and still a bit of dried blood on its face. Its hands have scrapes and bruises too, some fresh and raw, and other that have scabbed over. Interesting.

I sat up, and tried to stand, but a shooting pain through the wound in my leg stopped me. I reached for the chair by the bed, and braced myself as I stood. A moment to work through the pain, and I could hobble the two steps to sit at the table and rest. 

On the bed the monkey was quiet, and when I glanced over, I could see it ('her' I reminded myself) see _her_ watching me through sleepy eyes. 

"Still no brilliant remarks about lizards or snakes?" I snapped, irritated by the pain. "Not even a nice little scream?"

"Umm... No," she paused, studying me in the grey sunlight from the window. "I’m trying to remember if we’ve met before. Your eyes look familiar somehow.”

“My eyes?”

“Yes. You have kind eyes, Miss. They're awfully pretty."

I blinked. I've been called many things by Apes, but 'kind' and 'pretty' are not usually among them. 'Hideous,' 'disgusting' and 'savage' where the words the Apes who came stare at me in the 'Monstre Gathering' would use more often than not. I suspected that the hatchling may have suffered a blow to the head. Certainly the dark bruising around its eyes would support that. 

The monkey started to sit up, but suddenly yelped in pain. "Gawd!" She stopped moving, eyes closed, breathing shallowly. I started out of the chair, but she shook her head, and then winced again. "No, I'll be alright. Give me a moment. I'm stiff and everything hurts, but I need to get up. Can't stay in bed all day." She managed to sit upright, eyes and mouth tightly clenched. 

"Move over to the edge of the bed," I said, "And let me see your back. There is blood on the blanket. I should have checked your wounds last night, but I wasn't at my best, and everything happened very fast."

She did as I asked, and I inspected her back, examining through the ragged cloth the several shallow scrapes and cuts where the dirt and cobblestones had abraded her skin when she was dragged along the ground. Her coat and shirt had given some scant protection, but there are places where the threadbare fabric had torn and her skin was damaged. 

"Take your shirt off."

"Ma'am? No, Ma'am! T'aint proper."

"Your wounds must be cleaned. The streets of London are filled with filth. You could die from an infected cut or scrape that can be easily prevented. In order for me to do so, you need to remove your shirt." Suddenly the pain of my own wounds caught up with me, and I lost my patience with her and held up a talon.

"Now, take your shirt off, or I will cut it from your body!" I growled. 

I saw her flash a look at the door, gathering herself ready for action, no doubt considering whether she should make a run for it. What must this be like for her, a huge monster behind her, threatening her when she was still hurt and disoriented from last night? 

I'm frightening her, so I made an effort, and I stepped back and gentled my voice, saying softly, "That was poorly done of me. I'm hurting as well, and I tend to be ill-tempered and impatient when I'm injured. Let me help you, this truly is for your own good."

She made a swift movement and I steeled myself to let her go. But she didn't run, and instead... 

Her shirt was... partially off. She pulled it over her head, arms still in the sleeves, and her front covered. I sighed again, strangely relieved. "Excellent. Now let me see..."

Her back was covered with scrapes and blotches, some red and purple and raw, and others that were yellow and almost green and look...older than the damage from last night. What had happened to this hatchling? And yes, there were a number of shallow scrapes and deeper cuts, but most had clotted, and only a few were seeping drops of blood, probably reopened when the shirt came off. And it all needed to be cleaned.

I poured out the bloody water from last night out of the bowl into the slop bucket (I refuse to pour things into the streets like some of these filthy Apes) then pour in some fresh water from the pitcher. I collected a scrap of clean cloth, a bottle of gin, and a box that my old friend left with me for situations such as this, and returned to the bed. 

After I soaked the cloth in the water, I scrubbed vigorously at the scrapes on her back. She gritted her teeth for a minute, and then finally yelled "Stop it!"

Startled, I stopped, and realized that she's breathing hard, tears running down her face. "I'm not a bloody table top, ma'am! Take it easy, you'll rub my skin clean off the way you going."

"Well, your back is certainly cleaner. Let me just sanitize the wounds." I lifted the half-empty Gin bottle and poured a thin stream down her back, moving it from shoulder to shoulder and catching the excess liquid in the bowl. The monkey stiffened her back, and seemed to be fighting to not move away from the stream. I saw that she was now biting her shirt and the tears were back. 

"Now what?" I asked.

"Bloody Hell that stings." She sent a narrow eyed look over her shoulder. "You've never done this before, have you? 

"I know how to do this in theory, but you're the first Ape I've ever... repaired."

"You have that sword. You must have cut people before." 

"Well, yes, but I usually kill them."

"Kill them?"

"I assure you, they almost always deserve it."

I decided it might be wise not to mention my occasional eating habit right now. 

"Anyway, I'm not an Ape! I'm a girl! A human being, if you please."

"Mammal, ape, human, girl. What does it matter?"

The monkey dropped her head forward onto her chest, and muttered to itself, too low for me to hear. I doubted that it was very complimentary. Considering the discomfort, both mental and physical, that I'd put her through in the last ten minutes, I decided to let her be.

I sorted through the kit that the Doctor left with me on a recent visit. It contained assorted bandages, surgical glue, antibiotics of various types, and pain-killers, better and less addictive than the various opiates used at this time. I pulled out a small bundle marked 'medical gauze.' Most of her wounds were scrapes and small cuts; since they were cleaned, wrapping them would be enough, I thought. With her reluctant co-operation, I managed to get her wrapped up, and with a happy sigh she pulled her shirt back on. 

I took a bottle of medicine from the box, checking that it was a mild pain-killer. Everything in there was safe for both humans and myself to use. The Doctor, often careless about many things, was careful to ensure that at least this was safe. It was almost as if he knew I'd have to care for humans occasionally. A moment's work to open the bottle, and I handed her one pill. 

"What's this?" There was a note of suspicion in her voice. Smart little monkey, to not just accept what she's given by a stranger.

"These will help reduce the pain. Two of these for me, see..." and I showed her the pills in my hand, "and one for you, since you're rather small. Don't chew it, I'm told they are very bitter." I swallowed mine, washing them down with the last of the gin. She popped her pill in her mouth as well, and swallowed it without water or gin.

That narrow eyed look was back on her face as she regarded the gin bottle, but she simply said, "Sorry I yelled at you, ma'am. I know you were only trying to help." 

"It's fine. I suppose I need to learn to be gentler. We're both hurting and a bit grumpy." I sighed. "What a pair we are."

"Yes, ma'am. That we are." 

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

"Rent's due!" called out my landlady. Although it was early in the day, I could hear the slur in her voice from drinking the Gin she sold downstairs. Excellent. She was less likely to care that I never show her my face.

I donned my cloak, and pulled out my small purse. I had more money hidden in the room, but I would not touch it while the monkey was here. Better safe than sorry, as the Doctor liked to say.

I turned to the monkey. "I'm not sure you are well enough to leave yet, although you were certainly considering it a moment ago. I live a... solitary life. Someone must be worrying about you, though I'm not sure if I can get a message to them today. I don't trust my landlady not to lose it. But we could ask her to get a note delivered, if you like." 

"Maybe to the factory where I get my matches? They won't see it 'til tomorrow though. Sunday's their day off." 

The match factory? She must be an orphan, or she'd send a message to her parents.

"Are you able to write a short message? Do you know your letters?"

"A little ma'am, though I don't have much chance to practice. I'm better with numbers. Let's leave it for now, won't make much difference anyway."

Another pounding on the door interrupted us. 

"Yes, Yes, Mrs. Brown," I called and after checking my hood again, opened the door, "I'll take two bottles of your Gin as well." There had to be some compensation to living in this rat hole, and the Gin went a small way towards it.

My landlady was mollified by my extra purchase and the coins in her hand, and left us with a gap-toothed smile.

I closed the door, and put the two bottles on the table. "That's the last coins in my purse." Hopefully that comment will discourage the hatchling from attempting to rob me while I sleep. "I keep drinking this alcohol, and I have no idea if this Gin is very good, or very bad."

"No such thing as 'good' Gin, ma'am, "she replied, "save to clean wounds, I suppose. Thank you for that as well."

"You disapprove."

"T'aint my place to approve nor disapprove, ma'am," she replied with a shrug.

I considered her words. I suspected that she was not happy about something. Perhaps she considered the Gin a waste of money? Yet it was my money to spend.

"You are correct," I replied, "It's not your place."

A cool nod was my only reply. And then I wondered what had just happened. Why do I suddenly feel that I've missed something very important?

She was being almost painfully polite, even though she was young and the young Apes are not known for discretion. What was not being said?

It was time to change the subject. Before I can still my tongue, I ask "You mentioned the Black Scorpions. Who or what are they?" 

From her flinch this may not be a wise topic. I've done it again. Yet she answers readily enough.

"They're filth, ma'am. If there's a sin they can make a profit from, they're involved. They run gambling and opium dens. They control gangs of pick-pockets. They own some cock and dog fighting rings too. But their favorite crime is keeping whores. They've got gangs that go after girls and sometimes boys. They kidnap them, especially if they're orphans, or sometimes..." she trailed off.

"Sometimes?"

She whispers her reply, as if she can't believe it herself, "They'll buy a child from her parents, to forgive a debt or for... other reasons." 

"Surely even among the Apes that's not legal?"

"No. It's not. But the Scorpions don't care. Whispers say that they're protected by some very rich and powerful men."

"And the police don't do anything about this?"

"They try. But murder and burglary is more important to them. They protect the ladies and gentlemen more than common folks like me." She yawned suddenly. "Why am I sleepy again? I just woke up!"

"That will be the medicine taking effect. Go ahead and sleep; I might take a nap later as well." 

She moved to get off the bed, but I waved her back. If she has fleas, they're already in the bedding. "No stay there for now. You may as well be comfortable."

The monkey lay down again, making herself small against the wall on the far side of the bed, leaving me as much room as possible in case I wanted to lie down. "Don't worry ma'am, I'll wash your blanket and cloak before I leave..." she muttered, "...least I can do." And with that, she promptly fell asleep again.

Leave?

Well of course she has to leave... eventually. I understood that.

For some reason I didn't want to think about it.

***

I watched the sleeping monkey for a while. I understood what she was doing; the Doctor once explained that sleep is one way that the Apes heal. Given the bruises she had on her torso, she needs to heal a number of old injuries, in addition to her recent ones and the blood loss. Thank the gods she had no broken bones. I do not know what to do for Apes with fractures. I suppose I would need to put her out of her misery. Or perhaps find a veterinarian for Apes. I know such things exist, though I've never had reason to find one.

I sipped my gin, restless. I hated being inactive. It had been a long cold winter, and the last night was the first time in several weeks that I was comfortable enough to be outdoors late in the evening. 

I reflected on my foolish impulse to help. I could have gone the other way. I could have ignored a cry in the dark. It would have made no difference in the end, save to the monkey and it would have saved me my wounds. The filthy air that surrounds the city would simply have closed over the tiny gap, like a cold river would closed over a drowned garter snake, with about as much impact on the universe.

Blast the little monkey for getting me into this mess. Blast the Doctor for demanding that I make foolish promises. It's not as if my own fortunes could ever depend on a simple act of kindness. It's not as if the fate of worlds depends on a life of a little street Ape.

I was growing maudlin. I hated being injured. 

I took another drink. I still couldn't decide if I actually liked the taste of Gin.

***

Time passed, as it tends to do, even when one is a former companion to a madman in a blue box. Eventually, the monkey woke up again.

***

I was just finishing the bottle as the monkey stirred. She watched me shake the last of drops into my cup. I smirked at her; she simply gazed at me, sitting up slowly against the wall, as if she was trying to stay out of range. She eyed the slops bucket for a long moment, then the door, and hesitatingly stood up, and edged towards it. I moved to block her way. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"Am I a prisoner then, Ma'am?" and suddenly she was tense, her gaze flickering from me, to the room around me; sides, above, below and I could see options being weighed and decisions being made in her head. And all by instinct. If I attempted to stop her, she would fight and flee. It didn't matter that I was probably twice her weight and half again as tall. It didn't matter that she... will lose. 

Now that I could see them, her tiny balled fists showed signs of older cuts and bruises on the knuckles; she'd had to fight before last night. Yet she was still standing here, alive. I'd made a foolish mistake: a trapped animal will defend itself. Fiercely.

I stepped out of the line between her and the door, speaking softly. "No," I said, "but I'm not certain you can move very fast or go very far." That calmed her a bit as she moved cautiously past me, holding my gaze with her dark eyes. I continued, turning slowly as I held her gaze. "Your body seems to have decided to go into healing mode. You'll be asleep again within the hour. Better here than outside."

Letting her make her own choice was hard. With no thought on my part, every instinct I had was suddenly shouting; Protect! Defend! And a tiny whisper: mine! My... monkey? My pet? What nonsense was I thinking?

"I'll be fine. Feeling much better." She displayed enough bravado for a warrior cadet. "But I better go down to the privy while I'm awake. Four sets of stairs down will take a while." She was thinking of the privy on the ground floor. She reached for her coat. If she took it, I knew she'd never return. I needed to make it easier for her to stay. 

"There's a noxious hole for all types of waste disposal behind the door at the end of the hall." She looked back, surprised. "It's not pleasant, but it will save your strength."

She eyed me for a long moment, and then sighed deeply. "Alright. Pass me the slops bucket, then. May as well kill two birds with one stone."

I passed her the bucket, waited until she left, and _hissed_ in satisfaction. I love it when a plan comes together!

A few minutes later she walked back in the door. She set down the slop bucket and eyed me for a long moment, then shook her head. "Why am I still here?" She asked.

Ah that was a simple question to answer. "Because it is easier to fight a monster in the light, than shadows in the dark."

"You're not a monster." A slight, sad smile from the monkey, "I've fought monsters. You're fierce, and a rather frightening at first, and I don't want to cross you when you're angry..." she shrugged. "...but you're...just different, I guess. You're not a monster."

I lived for 5 years as the 'Monster' of the 'Monstre Gathering." That gave me the savings I have now, slight as they are. I am a true and certified monster that thousands paid good money to view, and cringe at; awed and thrilled.

I have killed humans, drunk their blood, and eaten their flesh to appease my hunger. Both those that deserved it... And to my shame, those that did not.

Yet this little monkey truly believes she's seen worse than I. And I am horrified to think that she may be right. There are days that I hate the City of London. 

"Do you have a needle and thread I could use, please?" she asked, as she folded her legs and dropped to the floor, leaning back against the wall. "I can mend the rips in your clothes, if you want."

"Why are you there?" I asked, "Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"No ma'am, I'm fine. Been in bed far too long. Time to be up."

And then I realized what she was doing. Fool, I knew I'd made a mistake earlier. She was making sure I couldn't get between her and the door again. She's partly feral, and I'd lost what little trust she had in me for rescuing her. Now I need to let her have time to decide for herself when or if I can regain it. Perhaps if I go along with her...

"I do have needle and thread, and any help you could give would be a favour to me. I'm not very good with mending things."

"Let me start with your cloak then. Need to mend it before I can wash it."

She turned the cloak inside out, and repaired both the lining and the outer fabric neatly. She worked steadily for some time, and while she was doing so, I took the opportunity to quietly retrieve a clean shirt and skirt from my clothes chest, and change. I kept my back to the monkey; I'm aware of the basic physical differences between my people and the Apes, and given how jumpy she was earlier on the subject of having her own shirt off, I thought it better to not overburden her with that information.

It hadn't gone as I'd planned.

"Do you want me to check those cuts again, ma'am? Change the bandages?" Her voice was soft, as if she didn't want to startle me. "Ma said they should be checked and changed once a day."

I hesitated a long moment: did I really trust an Ape to see to my injuries? But I couldn't really see the cuts on my back and leg. I needed a second pair of eyes, and she had at least some knowledge of treating wounds. 

"You did well with the one on my back last night; have a look at the slice on my leg."

"Right then." She unfolded herself from the corner, and stood waiting. I looked at her, and she smiled a little. "You'll need to lie down, ma'am. I can't see the back of your leg properly if you're standing." 

That presented a problem. I didn't know if I could trust her while I was vulnerable. I knew she still had that knife she took from the dead Scorpion. What to do about it? 

I could demand that she give it to me, I suppose. I could require that she treat me while I'm standing or sitting on the chair, though that would hardly protect me, just make it difficult for her, and might compromise my own care. I could demur from being treated; simply tell her I've changed my mind.

Or I could comply with her very sensible request. Just choose an option and do it. 

As I hesitated, the monkey looked at me questioningly. "I promise not to be rough, miss. Honest! I don't want to hurt you." 

Well I can't ignore a challenge like that! After all, I'm not the one who was threatened earlier. And I still have my own secret weapon: a killer of a tongue. 

I lay down on my belly, and the monkey sat on the edge of the bed beside me. She gently lifted the hem of my skirt, bringing it to my knee, and left the edge of it there. I still do not understand all the taboos the Apes have about skin and degrees of nudity, but I appreciated that she was leaving me as much dignity as possible. 

The monkey carefully removed the bandage from last night, and I could feel her hand gently tracing the wound. "It's starting to heal up nicely. There's no fresh blood. Looks like just the tip of the knife caught a couple of spots on your skin. Cuts don't seem too deep. If you stay off it another day or two, it'll heal up fine. Bet it stings though."

"It does. Pass me the medicine box. There may be something in there to reduce the pain." She fetched the box, and placed it on the floor near my head. I looked over the edge of the bed and sorted through the contents. I handed a tube of ointment to her. "Put a little bit of this on the cuts, it will help them heal. Not too much, I don't know if I'll be able to replace it when the tube is done." 

The monkey nodded, and settled back on the bed, carefully applying the salve. There was a moment when she stroked my scales just a little in the wrong direction, and I felt a ripple of _tsokesh,_ but she quickly finished, and after wiping her hands, wrapped up my lower leg in a clean bandage and cloth. 

"Sit up so I can take off these bandages and check your back." I shifted on the bed, and she helped me unwrap, staying carefully behind me. "This cut looks like it pulled open again, but you've been quiet all day." 

"It must have happened last night when I picked you up and put you on the bed."

"You did? I don't remember that. I remember working on your back and then..." she trailed off. 

"You went into shock. I had no idea what to do, so I just wrapped you in the blanket and tried to keep you warm." It had been frightening, but I don't think she was too badly hurt. She's recovering well, and seems to be coherent between bouts of sleepiness.

"Well, whatever you did worked. So I thank you again. I seem to say that a lot to you." Behind me I could feel her cleaning up the wound on my back. "There's just a little bit of fresh blood, I'll try some of that stuff, and bind it up again."

"Work from top to bottom, otherwise it pulls my scales in the wrong direction ."

"Sorry. Does it hurt? Itch?"

"No, it just.. feels wrong."

"Huh. Right then, top to bottom it is." She applied the ointment carefully as I'd asked, then bound up the wound, wrapping the bandages around my chest and tucking the end in carefully at my side, in case I needed to remove it myself. For one so young, she's doing very well.

I stretched gently when she was done, settling the new wrappings in place. "Do I need to change your bandages too?" I asked.

"No ma'am, we did mine this morning. I'm safe until tomorrow, thank you."

I frowned at her for a moment. Cheeky little monkey! Then I shook my head and smiled a little, pleased she didn't hold my roughness this morning against me. 

She grinned back at me and returned to her mending, working on her own coat and my torn blouse and skirt. It was evening again by the time she finished, and folded up the clothes to be washed. She covered her mouth and yawned. "Sorry. Time to go to sleep again. Your turn for the bed, ma'am. You look all done in. I'll take the floor tonight. See you in the morning." She curled up, settling herself against the wall.

"Don't be absurd! You can't sleep on the floor!"

"It's _your_ bed, ma'am! I've slept worse places these last few months, honest. Besides, in my family, the youngsters always slept on the floor. Bed's for the adults. Won't hurt me for the night." 

I considered arguing, but I really was very tired. I tossed her the blanket she'd used last night, wrapped myself in my cloak and lay down to sleep. 

I spent the night shivering; the room felt colder that night that it had in months. I missed my little foot warmer.


	3. Monday March 7, 1881

**Today (Monday)**

And the birds, yet again, decide that dawn is an excellent time to start up their noise.

The monkey was still on the floor, wrapped in the blood-flecked blanket. It looked smaller... ah, I see. She'd folded the blanket in half across its width, and has a layer between herself and the cold floor, and a layer draped over her curled up body. Clever. 

What do Apes dream of? I wondered idly. She was whimpering very quietly in her sleep off and on last night. I almost didn't notice. I thought she was also fighting at one point. The Apes can be so violent; even their hatchlings fight.

Something caught at my mind. Bits and pieces of what I'd seen and heard. I felt as if I should know something, and it was just out of focus.

The monkey stirred, and started to mutter, still half-asleep: "I've got to get up. Need to go earn some money. I don't mooch."

What on Earth is a mooch?

She shook herself awake with a stretch and a groan, which she swallowed when she saw me watching her. 

We blinked at each other for a moment. "Good morning, ma'am," she said.

"Morning," I nodded back. "The rain from yesterday has stopped." 

She jumped up, shook herself, and grinned.

"Oh, that's grand," she said, peering through my grimy window, "It's Monday, and there's sun and a breeze. A perfect washday!" She gathered up my cloak and blanket, and the clothes she'd mended, including her own patched and worn coat. "Everything will dry nice and quick."

I went and sorted through my old clothes in my wooden clothes press. I found a plain white shirt, soft with age and repeated washings and with only a small tear in the sleeve. If I don't tear them or stain them with blood, my clothes last a long time, as I don't need to wash them as often as a human does. One of the advantages to not being burdened with sweat glands. I've had this shirt for years, but it's time for it to go to a new home.

"Here," I offered it to the monkey, "change into this. Your blouse is more mends than cloth. I was going to use this one for rags, but you may as well have it. It is too large for you, but it will do. Take the opportunity to wash your own. "

She thanked me (again!) and popped out the door, no doubt to visit the Necessary down the hall. On her return, she bustled around gathering up what she needed. A small bar of soap, a bucket to fetch water and the small bowl/wash basin. I told her where to find the large communal washbasin kept under the stairs on the ground floor, and the laundry line up on the flat roof above us, and pointed out to her the door to the roof. I listened to her go down the stairs, still walking a bit stiffly, most likely still in some pain. I wasn't worried today that she'd disappear, she seemed pleased to have some real work to do. She was more relaxed yesterday when she was working on the mending as well. Perhaps she just likes having something to do.

I shook my head, and smiled a little. I was still feeling sore too, so I reached for the gin bottle.

I spent the next hour or so drinking steadily, and feeling my cuts throb, and feeling more and more sorry for myself as I looked around my room. It needed cleaning, and the window was grimy, and the coal fireplace needed a sweep and a scrub. But I could not muster the energy. It all seemed so very pointless. 

I was stuck, in a city with no beauty, among beings who I despised as thieves and murderers.

***

"Filthy, stinking Apes!" 

I hurl my empty mug and it smashes against the wall by the door. Unfortunately, the monkey has just returned from the roof, and in my badly timed temper tantrum I almost hit her!

"What in blazes was that for, Miss? Do that again, and kindness or no, I'll box your ears!"

By all the Gods, why do I keep doing this? I can count on the claws of one hand how many beings I interact with in a typical month. The monkey is one of an even smaller number of humans that knows what I am, and seems to accept me. Even if she doesn't know the full extent of what I am.

I despise every single Ape. Except I'm starting to like this friendly, industrious and fierce little one. Yet I seem to be desperate to chase her away.

And then I admit the truth to myself; though she was bleeding and bruised herself, she brought me home, and a tiny part of me has this strange wish to keep her.

I've never had a pet before. I know I can't rescue every stray in the city but perhaps I could start with just one. But warring with that is my distrust of Apes, and the simple fact that I have no idea what to do with her. I'm not sure that having warm feet is a good reason to keep a pet. 

I'm not even sure if she wants to stay. Half the time she seems ready to bolt out the door.

How do I convince an animal to trust me? A semi-feral animal at that...

An animal who can administer basic medical attention, offers to wash clothes and bedding, does the mending, and says please and thank you. 

And I suddenly realize that though I've growled at her several times, she's never felt nervous enough that she's threatened me with that oversize knife she's hiding.

I'm going at this the wrong way. I need to take a few minutes and think. Except that I can't.

"By the Gods, my head hurts," I mutter to myself.

A moment later, a cup of water is placed before me, and two of the pills I had yesterday. I look up, into the dark eyes of the young monkey.

"Take these. Bet you didn't take them earlier, did you?" She's right, of course. I went directly for the alcohol. 

She collects the half empty gin bottle. and I can tell she is very tempted to empty it into the slops bucket. But she simply re-corks it and puts it away in my tiny cupboard.

"Come with me and sit outside for a bit. You'll feel better." 

"No thank you. It's not warm enough."

"It's the first really nice spring day. The sun's warm out of the breeze." 

I hesitate, and she heads to the door and beckons to me. "Come on, just for a few minutes. You can always come back down if it's too cold." 

I sigh, take my spare cloak from the clothes press, and follow her up to the roof.

She leads me to a little semi-hidden area, in the sunlight but out of the breeze, and not visible from the windows of the neighboring buildings. I lower her hood and sit in the sun. It's very pleasant, and as the medicine takes effect, I just sit and relax and watch the monkey check the laundry and putter around the roof. And as I relax, I enter a near doze, and let my mind drift. 

Slowly, bits and pieces from the last 48 hours start to fit into patterns.

As the shadows on the roof start to lengthen, I glance over to where the monkey is sitting nearby, gazing out at the city. I notice that there is water leaking slowly from her eyes. I watch for a minute or two, tasting the air. I think she's afraid... but not of me. This seems to be a more general, and deeper fear.

Finally I decide to simply ask, "What's wrong?" 

She sighed deeply, looking around the roof at the hanging clothes, and down at her own knees, clasped to her chest. Finally she looked up at me. 

"Miss, I thank you for all your help. You've been truly kind to me, odd bits aside. But I've been thinking about things you've said. You don't like humans, do you? I'm bothering you, staying here like this." 

She stood, and waved at the clothing, flapping gently in the breeze. "The laundry will be dry soon. Once it's folded and done, it's time for me to go and leave you in peace."

"You can't leave..."

She twisted towards me, suddenly tense. I shook my head, "No, wait. Let me finish. You can't leave, because it is far too dangerous for you out on the streets. Hear me out. If I'm wrong, or you want to leave at any time I will make no attempt to stop you. I swear on my sisters' graves."

She cocked her head, still wary, but willing to listen. Looking at her now, I can see that her eyes hold so much pain.

"I've been thinking about the various things you said yesterday, and your general appearance. You've clearly been beaten several times recently, and you've had to fight as well. The bruises on your body and on your hands, as well as the scars demonstrate that. You can also defend yourself, and you've probably won some of those fights, as your face is mostly undamaged, save the bloody nose and black eyes from the other night, and you appear to have no broken bones."

"You're polite, and you're cautious. You know how to dress wounds, and explained that your mother taught you. You obviously also have a work ethic: you are in enough contact with the match factory that the someone might know you if you sent them a message; you're concerned about earning money for basic necessities, and you're willing to both mend and wash my clothes and blankets as compensation to me for helping you. You were most likely raised in a poor but civilized family. You mentioned that your mother is dead. You've also mentioned that you've been living rough, which indicates you've lost your home, but you also said 'the last few months.' So being a street rat, as you called yourself, is likely a fairly recent change for you. Originally I thought you were an orphan. I'm not so sure of that now."

"You don't like gin. Or rather, you don't like excessive drinking, and are wary of me when I drink, especially when my temper is up. You try to stay out of reach, and in places where you can escape if you need to. Which means you've learned to do so in the past. 

"The Black Scorpions were attacking you. You've told me what they wanted. You have not said why they chose you."

"If I am right, then you have no safe place to go if you step back out on the streets." I stop and take a deep breath. If my suspicion is correct, her story has taken a very ugly turn. I decide to let her finish if she wants to. So I just give her the opening: "You have not mentioned your father at all."

She hangs her head, and sighs. When she looks back up, she seems to be having trouble controlling her face. Her voice is...broken when she replies:

"My younger brother and sister died of the flu last spring. Ma bled to death birthing my baby brother in the fall. Da and I, we lost them all. Da was never the same after that. He started drinking an awful lot. When anything made him angry, he'd lash out and hit things. Tables, doors, walls..." She took a breath, "Me." 

"I took it for a couple of weeks. Hoped he'd get better. He didn't and one day, I hit him back." She waved at her body, where her shirt covered her bruises. "He didn't like that one bit. He decided that he liked the gin better than me." 

"I've seen what gin did to him, ma'am. How much he changed. He sold me to the Black Scorpions for a few bottles. I've been on the run from them since New Year's." She sighed deeply, and then continued, "Please, my Da was a good man who lost almost everything. And then the gin, it drowned whatever good was left in him." 

"Please don't let that happened to him happen to you."

This surprises me. "Why would you care what happens to me?"

"Why wouldn't I? Costs me nothing to care a bit. And you did save me life."

Suddenly I round on her, growling: "Wait... Your own father sold you to the Black Scorpions to be a whore?" At her nod, I have a flash on anger so strong, I want to go out and slaughter every male Ape in the city. I thought it likely she'd been taken to repay a debt, not deliberately sold!

Only two nights ago I was seriously considering slaying this child simply because she saw my face. Now I have this strong pull to ensure she is never harmed again. I'm such a hypocrite. 

"Stay here for a few days more, until my leg heals. Let me look at your situation and see if I can do something to help. If it makes you feel better, you can continue mending and cleaning; certainly my room could use it and it would be a kindness to me."

She eyes me for a long moment. "I'd like to stay. It nice to feel I don't need to watch out for Scorpions all the time. But your drinking and your temper worry me. I don't want to be hurt, and I don't want to hurt you." 

"I understand." I try to defend my poor drinking habit, but I have no heart for it. "The gin...helps a little. It lets me forget." 

"Forget how much you've lost? How lonely you are?"

I look up at her, about to make a sharp reply, and realize...

I'm not the only one here who has lost everything. She too has lost her family and her home. 

I'm not the only one who is alone. At least no one whom I loved and depended on ever betrayed me.

"Yes." I sigh. "This winter has been tedious, and I can't afford more than the occasional second-hand book for entertainment. Since I left my previous career in the fall, I admit I've been unable to determine what my next endeavour should be."

"You need something to do. Keeping busy always helps me." She's quiet for a moment, clearly thinking, then whispers, "Teach me that sword thing you did. Teach me to protect myself, if the streets aren't safe for me."

And again my tongue outraces my brain: "Why would I ever want to teach an Ape to do tricks?" And then I wince: by any standard that was so rude, I want to slap myself! 

She closes her eyes for a moment, as if to shut out the pain my stupidity has caused her. However, to her credit, the monkey stays focused on what she's saying.

"You're bored, miss. That's why you're drinking so much. Being injured makes it worse." She sounds exasperated, "Teaching me for a few days will be a destruction."

"A Distraction. Although possibly your destruction as well." If she becomes overconfident with a little training, she could easily get herself killed.

She moves in front of me, takes a deep breath; the look she gives me would be called 'solemn' on the face of one of my people.

"Let's make this simple, ma'am. Teach me until either you get bored again and decide not to, or I don't want to learn any more. Whichever comes first. Then we part company, and are done with each other. You can stop at any time. Do we have a deal?" 

I could argue, but with all the emotional turmoil I've been through, thinking about this young monkey and her shattered life, I'm beyond tired. She's given me an easy out though, if I just give in for now: "We have a deal. We'll start tomorrow."

If she lasts two days in training, it will be a miracle. I'm a warrior-scientist; I don't believe in miracles.

"Right, then." She gathers up the laundry, and I stand, and step out from the alcove. With my hood up, I look around the roof.

Evening is falling. It's been a pleasant but emotionally painful afternoon. Still, I think this day may be a good memory to come back to until summer finally comes, and I can be warm again.

***

The folded laundry is put away. The monkey started to remove my old shirt, but I simply told her to keep it for now. I think she took advantage of that little alcove on the roof and the screening laundry to have a quick wash earlier, before she came down to get me, as she smells clean (for an Ape) and a little soapy. The bruises around her eyes are fading and she seems a little more relaxed. Excellent. 

I hand her a single tablet from the Doctor's box to help with her aches, and take another one for myself and we both washed them down with water from a battered tin mug.

All in all, I think it's been a very good day. 

"Good night, ma'am." The little monkey slips off the chair where she's been sitting, and curls up in the blanket on the floor, settling in and trying to get comfortable. I watch her for a moment from the bed. She's still bruised and sore. She must be exhausted from dealing with me, and worrying about her immediate future, though she tries not to show it. Not to mention doing the laundry! She was whimpering quietly in her sleep throughout last night. The medicine will help, but the wooden floor isn't soft, and the room is still damp and cold and...

I sigh. Kind eyes indeed. I'm too gentle-hearted for my own good..."Get up here."

"Ma'am?"

"Get up here. If you're going to do any training tomorrow, you need some real sleep."

She scrambles back up. "Thank-you, Miss Lizard."

"I've just realized something else," I said, "When you went into shock two nights ago, you became disoriented, didn't you? You don't remember my name. And you never did finish telling me yours."

She stops and stares at me, her face slightly flushed. I recognize this look from my old friend, the Doctor. She's embarrassed. I smile a little, and execute an exaggerated bow from my place sitting on the bed. "Vastra. My name is Vastra."

"Right. Nice to meet you, Miss Vastra. I'm Jenny."

"Nice to meet you too, Jenny."

She curls into a small spot behind me. As I drift off to sleep, my last thought is that it feels rather nice to have my new pet sleeping on the bed again.

At least my feet will be warm.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: 
> 
> This story was inspired by a comment in one of the first Jenny/Vastra fanfics I read: The Wyrm and the Maiden Fair" by Daystar Searcher on "A Teaspoon and an Open Mind" where that author said: If someone would actually write how the story of Jenny and Vastra meeting, and the slow building of trust, and then friendship, and then love, I would worship them forever. " 
> 
> I liked the challenge, although I understand that this version of their story will not be everyone's cup of tea. This story is based in part on notes from the Brilliant Book 2012, and comments by Neve McIntosh (Madame Vastra) and Catrin Stewart (Jenny Flint) from Doctor Who Magazine 437. In that semi-cannon, Vastra and Jenny met in 1881. They'd been together for about 7 years by the time of "A Good Man Goes to War" when they are picked up from London in late 1888. Jenny was "about 20" at that time, so the "almost 13" comment here is based on that. In the back story that was created in the Brilliant Book, Jenny was a Match girl who was rescued by Vastra, and Catrin mentioned that she thought Jenny was an orphan. I stuck close to that; Jenny is almost an orphan. We'll see what develops there.
> 
> Details such as Jenny being attacked by a Chinese Tong for "a mating ritual," Vastra living above a Gin Palace with a drunken landlady when they met, and having been a member of Jago's "Monstre Gathering" are also from the Brilliant Book 2012. Don't worry though, Paternoster Row has not been forgotten.  
> Tsokesh: what one felt when scales were stroked in the wrong direction is a Silurian word invented by by Lyricwritesprose for the story Torpor, also on "A Teaspoon and an Open Mind." I've started a little dictionary of Silurian terms found on the Internet, so words will pop up from time to time.
> 
> Neve McIntosh speculated in the DWM interview that Vastra saved Jenny from the streets, and Jenny saved Vastra from herself - that's where the love between them comes from. Hopefully I've started to capture that.  
> There are additional bits from interview and books that will come into play in the upcoming stories. Wait till you see what mischief our mis-matched misses were up to before Vastra became the Great Detective... but before that, they should eat something, and it will be Jenny's turn to tell the story.


End file.
